Titles Never Die
by GantuShmantu
Summary: Peter Parker is just a name, but Spiderman is forever. But what if this statment was proven wrong? What if Spiderman died due to the actions of the wicked? Would their be another to step up? This is the tale of another Peter Parker who was once Spiderman, but shared a life unlike the guy we know and love. Can he be the hero they need?
1. A Life Taken

A harsh breeze often brings about a rather melancholy sort of day; one which is filled with more sorrow and failed intuition than hope. Moments where you tend to find yourself at a lack for words at the thought of never doing all of what you promised, or saying goodbye to the people you care for. We aren't a vary cautious group of individuals, nor do we take the consideration enough to entice the thought of our own mortality. It scares us far too much for us to think about it for any large amount of time; but sometimes we are given little choice in the matter, often we are forced to deal with our own end. At some instances, whether we are aware of it or not, the day we are in now shall be our last. Some days, people die. Unfortunately for the city of New York…today Peter Parker was the one to have to realize this.

The young man had only recently hit his twenty-first birthday, and already he had reached a tremendous amount of fame and publicity for his vigilante's antics. Whether it was good or bad, his name had been all over the papers, or at least his alter-ego Spiderman's name was. He gave the name and donned his signature red and blue suit a mere four years earlier, vying to end the crime that plagued the city and keep innocent people safe; however, despite all of his efforts to aid the people of New York, Peter was far from happy with his current situation. Often enough, Parker had even gone as far as contemplate whether or not it would just be better to leave it all behind in favor of a normal life.

In fact, just this evening he had thought of the very idea; citing that "he had given enough to his hometown" and that it was time to do something different for a change. Alas though, it didn't matter that he had debated it for nearly an hour, as either way he got dressed and began to swing his way through the city or another routine patrol. Once there though, he had felt a slight sense of relief as the wind blew through his face which had been so carefully covered. It always had. If anyone would ever discover who he really was under the mask… if they ever wanted to take their vengeance out on him through a loved one of his…

"There goes my mind again" he said to himself rather questionably. "Stay focused there Spidey, we've got a city filled with enough villains to throw a masquerade ball and I'll bet at least one of them has plans for tonight."

So he turned his attention back to the task at hand and looked outward again at the various skyscrapers, billboards, and other noticeable locations of the city above. For quite some time all he had seen was the occasional helicopter or the faintest sight of traffic down beneath him, and so as it grew dark he made one last leap off of his webbing; this time dismounting atop of a building which was the tallest in the city and by far his favorite. Peter took a seat down against the structure's marble exterior and took a much needed rest. All of this had been so comforting that he started to doze off and his eyelids fought to stay open; a fight which would have proven futile if it hadn't been for the loud explosion he heard a floor below him.

"What are the odds…" he thought aloud as he dusted himself off and made a running start towards the door to the interior of the building; however, as soon as he managed to get close he felt a large black tendril thrash him across the abdomen. The strike itself had not been severe at all, and in fact, had been almost as if his attacker had merely wished to get his attention more than anything else. Getting back up to his feet and launching himself onto a nearby wall he was able to see he assailant clear as day, and with this Peter had realized that his suspicions had been correct.

The strange tendril which hit him came from none other than Venom; which originally had once been his pigheaded rival from where he had worked, Eddie Brock, mixed with a peculiar symbiote from outer space. Before he had another second to reminisce about the past he felt another blow, this time nearly grappling him by the throat if it hadn't been for his fast reflexes.

"Eddie, long time no see, it's good to see some things don't change. You know, like the whole "you want to paint the city with my blood thing," it's comforting." Spiderman Exhaled in an attempt to lighten the mood and perhaps calm him down, as there was something different this time around; Brock had been a strong man before he bonded with the alien life form, but now he was even faster.

"We think you should keep cracking you jokes, we'd like to hear one while we are breaking your neck." He retorted with a deep sigh as he lunged at Peter once more, his voice almost having a demonic nature too it without the death threat.

"I don't know about that, I mean I'd love to die for you and all but I've kinda got a lot on my plate here." He told him now with a bit of a Charlie horse starting up his back. Peter jumped forward and planted a solid kick right to Venom's chin, followed by a few web attacks thereafter, but they seemed to have little effect. Now it was his turn to lay a few more on the heroic arachnid; with a swipe of the claws here and a head butt or two there he managed to make his attacks count, finishing it off by picking Spiderman up by one of the many tendrils jutting out from his backside. He had him exactly where he wanted him, but he still resisted killing him at first as he clasped a small trinket from his pocket and held it up to the gasping hero. A few seconds later he pressed a small red button on the device and in an instant his grip had tightened at least ten fold, causing Peter to try and desperately remove Venom's arms but to no avail.

"Do you like it? A gift from Norman Osborn courtesy of Oscorp Industries, as thanks for the wonderful friendship you've had with them. Gobbie told me that you often go here, so he lent me this. It amplifies the symbiote's powers with a serum similar to the one he took to become what he is." His grip continued to tighten as he struggled for air, Parker thinking that he could feel his hands slipping. "But I don't want to see you die like this…this is just pathetic." Venom growled.

Removing his hands from his throat he finally let Peter catch his breath, or as much as you can get while crashing through three air conditioners and landing smack dab against the roof's outer edge. He raised his arms and managed to release a few web shots at the incoming blur that was Venom, but it merely served to antagonist him like a matador entices a bull. In his weakened state he leaned against the wall behind him and threw one last punch at the menacing wall crawler, which went well wide and Eddie took up Spiderman once again.

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. A Life Taken Part II

#3

Removing his hands from his throat he finally let Peter catch his breath, or as much as you can get while crashing through three air conditioners and landing smack dab against the roof's outer edge. He raised his arms and managed to release a few web shots at the incoming blur that was Venom, but it merely served to antagonist him like a matador entices a bull. In his weakened state he leaned against the wall behind him and threw one last punch at the menacing wall crawler, which went well wide and Eddie took up Spiderman once again.

"Why don't you fight back webhead? Do you WANT to die? Or is the famous itsy bitsy Spiderman finally giving up?" He mocked as he sent Parker barreling through a couple dozen more pieces of scenery.

At the moment it was no surprise that Venom had more than a fair advantage in practically every category; and so if he was going to get out of this he needed to find something that would even sting his adversary, for at the moment defeating him conventionally was not an option. His movements were slow and without the normal grace and agility, of which he was often associated, Peter was out of gas and unfortunately Venom knew it. He quickly glanced around his surroundings in an attempt to find anything that might help, and saw nothing of any use until noticed a small pipe lying on the ground beside him. It didn't look like much else than a hollow metal pipe, but he was relying on the only weakness of Venom's he knew to save him. With as much strength as he could muster he lunged forward and took up the pipe before smashing it against a nearby piece of metallic plating. A loud ting sounded off of the pipe, resulting in Eddie jumping back in shock as the black symbiote coating him seemed to wince in agony.

"Wow Brock, after all this time you still can't manage to get that fixed? I mean, I know some people are hard of hearing but jeez." Peter said in a tone similar to a low, muffled wheeze. Again and again he clanged the pipe off of anything he could find that even resembled metal, and with each passing reverberation Venom seemed to stumble to it's knees.

"I…said…enough!" Venom Shrieked. Sending out a tendril towards Parker with a rather hurried pace which he was able to quickly dodge; his speed was slowed to a crawl and his attacks much more predictable and weaker than before. With this moment of opportunity opening up to him Spiderman made sure it wasn't squandered; making as best a running start as he could he approached Brock and struck him upside the temple, and best yet, this time he actually felt it. The force of the blow sent him back a good ten feet, with the lumbering villain slowly reaching his feet with not much success. He made one lust strike at him with a swift right hook before he took a deep breath and groaned over his bruises, most of which would hurt in the near future.

With his opponent down for the count and his balance coming back to him he felt as though should get moving; however his spider-sense was still going off the charts…and it had never lied to him before. He would have craned his neck backwards, but well before he would get that chance he felt a piercing pain in the middle of his stomach. It was disorienting as the pain subsided within seconds, but once he did look down he saw a metal spike stuck through his upper body. Falling to his knees, he felt it hard to concentrate and soon felt as if the room was spinning as he tried to clear his head and think of what was happening. 'That spike… it wasn't a spike…more like a…tentacle…' he thought as he began to hear a shrill laugh resounding from behind him as the so-called "spike" or tentacle left his body.

"If you want something done right you must do it yourself, isn't that right arachnid? Sorry Venom, but it appears your enhancements weren't sufficient enough to defeat him…but no matter. I'll make sure your work isn't done in vein."

The laugh, as well as the voice had originated from a small man who now came out from behind the now delirious hero. This tiny individual who so happened to be walking with the aid of a set of four mechanical arms spawning from near his vertebrae, a man whom was well advertised in the underground as a one Doctor Octopus. It wasn't long before Peter began to find it near-impossible to breath and he was determined that at least one of his lungs had been punctured. His eyes seemed to be fogging up with a light zeal beginning to envelop everything he could see, and to make matters worse blood had started running up his esophagus and into the back of his mouth. Peter wanted more than anything to make a brake for it and shoot off into the distance with his webbing, but his body no longer was responding to his own thoughts. He felt himself drifting away and with one last glance up Octavius sent another one of his limbs at him, this time presumably aiming for just between the his eyes. One last laugh…one last grunt…and everything went dark.

There is more to a man than the title he bears, or the name that is given to him by birth; we are each defined by the actions in life, as well as in death. But when a hero dies, it is normally the ultimate sacrifice that only those of utter selflessness may propose. However, when thus occurs it is no small deed for the peoples they protect to take lightly, and as much of the same applies to their friends and loved ones. It is a bittersweet moment, filled with so much jumbled emotions in which most cannot distinguish between the joy of peace and the bitterness of loss. In most instances the world takes this day to mourn the loss of a savior, a warrior who sought nothing more than to preserve their safety of mind. Sometimes things don't work out that way though…in some cases the life of a hero is taken instead of given.

In the event of such occurring, eve heroes are given a sort of "guardian" to watch over them as they carry out their solemn duties. Hell, even Spiderman had someone looking out for him as best they could while he crusaded his way from skirmish to skirmish. One woman who looked out for the vested interest of all life across every spec of existence, and her name was Madam Web.

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. On the Other Side

#4

There is more to a man than the title he bears, or the name that is given to him by birth; we are each defined by the actions in life, as well as in death. But when a hero dies, it is normally the ultimate sacrifice that only those of utter selflessness may propose. However, when thus occurs it is no small deed for the peoples they protect to take lightly, and as much of the same applies to their friends and loved ones. It is a bittersweet moment, filled with so much jumbled emotions in which most cannot distinguish between the joy of peace and the bitterness of loss. In most instances the world takes this day to mourn the loss of a savior, a warrior who sought nothing more than to preserve their safety of mind. Sometimes things don't work out that way though…in some cases the life of a hero is taken instead of given.

In the event of such occurring, eve heroes are given a sort of "guardian" to watch over them as they carry out their solemn duties. Hell, even Spiderman had someone looking out for him as best they could while he crusaded his way from skirmish to skirmish. One woman who looked out for the vested interest of all life across every spec of existence, and her name was Madam Web.

She was a rather unusual woman, as she had seemingly bore wisdom beyond her years and held an origin more vague than most. Also, she had lived out days calling what is perhaps the strangest of places her home; for Web had resided in a small pocket of reality which seemed to be removed from all others. Most of the time you couldn't see much of anything around you, as there wasn't much more than blackened walls of webbing on all sides. One of the few instances I which light penetrated this damp and dreary abode, was when she had communicated with the various dimensions within her reach. Yes, she could send messages by using nothing but her own mental willpower, as well as some other unexplained force of nature. However, this ability would not and could not be something to be taken lightly, and as a result, must only be used in the utmost of emergencies.

If there was one thing you could say about her with the greatest of confidence, it would be that Madam Web had never been one to scare easily; but based on what she had just felt, which for the most part she couldn't even describe, a tingling sensation had begun to travel up her spine. She placed a few fingers to her forehead and started to lightly massage her temple, trying to concentrate rather feverishly. After a few moments the sensation she originally felt now simply turned into dread, and now it was almost as if a lump was forming at the bottom of her throat. Taking a couple deep breathes, she calmed herself back down and tried once again to clear her head; this time however, she did so with some success as a small opening appeared before her in the darkness. Through this portal of sorts, she could see other worlds or parallel realities, thus allowing for her to oversee various different places in a rather short distance of time.

In the beginning the overall image was distorted and blurry, but the more she thought about whom she had been trying to locate the clearer it became. A man appeared in her view; he was tall, built with muscle tone, and was decked out in a navy blue suit with red stripes covering a set of four jagged spikes coming from each arm. First thing she noticed after this was the fact that he wasn't exactly alone at the moment; in fact, it appeared as if he had his hands full at the moment with a group of incoming pumpkin bombs. After a few seconds he turned around and it seemed like he could feel her watching him; this caused the man to take a hurdle over a sidewall close by in order to evade the bogies behind him, and free up some time to speak with her.

"I'm kinda busy right now; maybe you could call back at another time." He replied as another wave of projectiles loomed above him, leaving the disguiser a tad preoccupied.

"Your squabbles are impertinent at the moment, Mr. O'Hara. Mister Parker has gone silent and I cannot reach him, I fear the worst has become of him as of late." Web explained as he leapt forward over a piece of cover, snared an overhead bomb with his web, and launched it forward at his ranged attacker before speaking again.

"What the shock do you mean you can't reach him?" Miguel exclaimed angrily.

"I was hoping you had heard from him." She reasoned

"No, I haven't…not since the accident at Alchemex. Last I heard he…he went back home to his own time. Last I saw of him he was safe." Miguel gruffly whispered as the implications she had given obviously had affected him; for, the last time the two heroes had met one another it had been to save all existence. The last time they fought alongside each other, Peter had managed to give him a new lease on life; he had managed to give him the power to feel something for the people he fought for once again, after such a long time of bitterness and morose indifference. Because of what he had taught him O'Hara had actually managed to become a better hero as well as a better person overall. With this he let out a heavy, pained sigh as he sat down on the ground beneath him and took a moment to collect his thoughts. "So…you think he's really gone don't you? I mean no offense, but you're not the kind of person to make house calls. You really think he's dead, don't you?" He asked in a rather distraught tone, enunciating every syllable in order to make sure his words came out right.

"I'm afraid so…" Web began. "I am sorry that you had to find out this way, it hadn't been clear at first what his fate had been…but I think now we must find a way to fix this. Neglecting to do so could, in turn, be rather catastrophic." Finished Web, whose words had seemed to come upon him like a poison as he quickly stood up and began to walk away from his supposed ally.

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. The Grass isn't Greener

#5

The sun had just begun to set over the quiet city of New York; all of the hustle and bustle that was normally the usual had dispersed and was replaced by an eerie fog which covered most roadways. At the moment, the obvious isolation of man and infrastructure seemed to cast a new light on the metropolis of business and intrigue; however, it had also served to give a certain young man the opportunity to enter onto the vacant street corners. Earlier in the day it had been far too dangerous a task for him, or anyone for that matter, to go venturing out by themselves or even in a group. There had been an uprising of the cities worst criminal minds, making a personal claim on the city of New York which the police were helpless to defend. In most cases, a certain protector would be there to ensure the wellbeing of the citizens…but things have changed.

No one really knew why he had seemingly forsaken them, that is save for the young man walking these streets in the late hours. For a time he had been that very man to save their lives, stop the infection that was greed that now had spread to the core of his home town, but no more. Garnering a black t-shirt, jeans, and hood he moves about the urban surroundings he once knew with a subdued silence following in the wake of his footsteps. This man, Peter Parker some called him, made sure his presence was unknown to anyone that may seek to hurt him as he made his way. That was as such until he managed to finally reach his destination some twenty or so minutes later; a small penitentiary a few miles outside of the city. Although it had been made clear of late that the inmates had control, they had decided to keep the police around to give a false sense of protection to the locals.

It had the usual locales you'd expect from a prison; barbed wire fence, guard posts on each end of the building, and the usual group of orange-clad residents. However, in this asylum their faces were of satisfaction and content as Peter walked in the front doors; for they knew that if it was their desire to escape the guards would willingly cough up the key. It all was an illusion, a minefield of mercenaries and murderers who most likely would kill him if they knew who he really was. None of that mattered in the end though, more or less it just meant he had to be much more careful; as their had been someone he desperately needed to speak to. Exchanging a quick word with a woman standing beside him he discovered that visiting hour had just began and it was in a small room on the far left of him, which had small painted print on it which read "Prisoner Visitation."

He filled out a few papers, leaving fake identification in all the right places just to be sure, and entered the room. The room itself hadn't been all that large and, in fact, it hadn't been much more than an empty room divided in the middle by a glass wall with a couple chair on either side. Peter took a seat in the chair closest to him and took a deep breathe to calm his nerves; a loud intercom signaled that all prisoners with visitors would now be sent in. Most of the men were of a rather scraggly nature and had been greeted to their families behind the glass pane, all except for one that is. This man was most likely in his early fifties and was a little bit on the rotund side; most of his body movements were slow and labored as he sat down on the other side of Peter.

"Hey Pete, it's good to be see you again son. I haven't seen you come by in a little while…" The man's voice began to trail off, fortunately though it seemed that he had been happy to see him. When he had first enter the room and sat down there had been what he could only describe as a look of disbelief on his face; but now, it was as if he had seen the prodigal son return after being lost for many years.

"I meant to visit more often Mr. Hardy, there have just been a few things standing in the way though. I just needed some time to get my head straight. I'm sorry that you are in this place…you don't deserve this sir." Parker pleaded, to which the man simply held up his hand in an effort to stop him from saying any more. There had been a certain level of angst and anguish that was laced and intertwined into his words, and Mr. Hardy had been able to recognize it with little difficulty.

"Don't start any of that bullshit, Peter. You are not responsible for anything that happened to us. Besides, you know she wouldn't want any of that nonsense either. She would want to be happy, son, wherever and whenever." He reasoned. "You have never done me wrong, and I'll be damned if I see you to blamed for why I'm wearing the orange jumpsuit." Hardy continued.

The words had been meant to sooth and or comfort him, yet they each had seemingly stretch the doubt in his heart deeper; like someone pouring lemon juice on an open wound. Whatever the case, Peter knew that while his words of reassurance were unsuccessful, they had still been of the utmost sincerity. This man who had seemed to know him so well, referred to him as his own son, had even gone as far as to open up his home to him son years earlier. For it had been at a young age that his parents had died in a plane crash, leaving him to live with his aunt and uncle; however, about a year or so after that they two had perished due to a run-in with a carjacker. After that, he was alone with nothing in the way of family to care for him save for Hardy himself, who had been a friend of the family.

"I'll be back another day sir, I promise. I just…need to settle something real quick. I just…I just need to go. I'm sorry." Peter told him nervously.

"I'm not going anywhere Peter, come see me whenever you feel like." He replied jokingly.

Saying his final farewell he left the building and began making his way back to the main stretches of the city. He had one more thing on his mind that he needed to take care of, a certain red and blue token of his past which he had just remembered he would get rid of. One last item had kept him dwelling on the hurtful things that had always stalked him both day and night, and to rid himself of it would help him towards the future Hardy spoke of. There had been a small alleyway he had used to hide some of his more prized possessions of late, and there he would find it.


End file.
